


Lace Me Up, Dress Me Down

by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Corsetry, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Rough Sex, porn with minimal plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-21
Updated: 2011-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-21 15:29:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles/pseuds/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is not above cross-dressing to get the information he needs. Eames is not above mixing business with pleasure. Arthur/Eames, corset PWP</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lace Me Up, Dress Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out[here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**
> 
> Wrote this for UniversalOverlordess after I subjected her to a website filled with beautiful corsets for sale. Our wallets had to be hidden. I used some pictures online for inspiration. Unfortunately since the time I wrote this story, the links have become outdated. But you can imagine a red corset, short skirt and strappy heels ;)
> 
> PS. If anyone draws fanart for this story, I WILL marry you.

“Eames, can you lace me up?”

 

Stiletto, black satin heels supporting self-assured, powerful feet. Black satin ribbon wrapping around those narrow feet, crisscrossing and hugging pale skin close to keep the shoes on. Those ribbons were almost gleaming in the room’s lighting as they wound around slightly bony ankles. They were wrapped around the ankle multiple times for support, ribbon hiding an inch of bare skin, before being tied at the backs in delicate bows. A sharp tug would be all it took to cause the whole display to unwind and for those feet to be free of the confining shoes – if it were ever necessary to run.

 

“Eames, seriously, we’re going to be late and I can’t lace myself up.”

 

Long, smooth, pale legs that seemed to go on forever, even though the man standing in front of him – back turned to face him – was the same height as him. The legs were shaved – a rare occurrence. Arthur had been very upset about the requirement to shave, but had done so nonetheless for the job, ever the professional. Eames had silently sat back and reaped the rewards – namely the view and the unique sensation when he touched those legs, slid his hands up, parted them. He continued to follow these legs upward, noting the powerful, deceptive muscles hidden just beneath the surface of skin when Arthur shifted from one foot to the other, impatient. The backs of those soft thighs were bare to him, and although he wanted to kneel behind the other man and lay his lips on every inch of skin, he remained seated and staring.

 

“Are you even listening?”

 

The skirt was terribly tempting, hiding the upper portion of those thighs – thighs he had memorized the feel of as they trembled – and the succulent swell of Arthur’s ass. It really wasn’t fair that the skirt was made of a shimmery lace that caused a relaxing _swishing_ noise when Arthur shifted his weight. The material was ruffled and looked soft to the touch; he couldn’t say for sure since Arthur had insisted on dressing himself, but Eames was determined to find out for himself. It was even worse that the only thing holding that skirt to Arthur’s hips snugly was another thicker ribbon of fabric, again tied in a bow. Another precise _tug_...and it would all fall away.

 

“ _Eames_!” Arthur finally snapped, glaring over his shoulder and finally jolting Eames out of his thoughts.

“Yes, my love?” Eames smiled up as his husband innocently. He didn’t bother attempting to hide the hungry look that he knew had darkened his eyes – Arthur was very familiar with it.

 

“Stop staring at _my_ ass, and get _your_ ass over here,” Arthur ordered in a huff before turning back around to face the vanity’s mirror. The shoes’ fabric caught the light. The skirt’s fabric gave a sigh like the breeze dancing through trees on a summer day. One of Arthur’s hands was resting on his narrow hip, while his other one was holding the front of the corset from falling off his body.

 

Eames heaved himself out of his chair with little complaint, having already dressed. Well no, that wasn’t quite accurate; Arthur had already dressed him. He had comfortable black shoes on – Arthur had relinquished the demand for proper fashion when he realized that there might be some running involved on this job. His pants were black and tailored specifically – Arthur had not understood his argument that most black pants looked the same. His button up shirt was a deep red to match Arthur’s corset, and his jacket looked a little too fancy for a club, even if it was a gentlemen’s club – though by that point he had given up on arguing with his partner.

 

Arthur’s corset, which he was still holding up while glaring at Eames in the mirror’s reflection for taking so long, was made of a breathtaking burgundy taffeta fabric. It not only caught the room’s lighting but manipulated it to its own design; lit up sections looked cherry red while shaded sections looked like a late harvest red wine. The black trim on the top and bottom were pleated and delicate in their simplicity. The two edges of trim were connected with four stripes of black boning on each side. There were five silver clasps running down the front – false promises as the way out was through the back – and a dainty black ribbon dangled down the centre.

 

The back was just as gorgeous when Eames stepped up behind Arthur and ran his fingers teasingly down bare arms before taking a careful hold of the corset’s fabric.  Arthur had already manoeuvred the fabric so that the bottom layer was hiding his back, while the top layer was held loosely together with black string threaded through silver eyelets. “Tight, darling?” Eames questioned mischievously, kissing Arthur’s bare shoulder while watching the other man in the mirror.

 

“As tight as you can get it,” Arthur did his best to hide the smirk threatening to form on his lips. Eames watched the man raise his hands to the front of the corset again, holding it still in preparation for Eames’s manipulation. Eames gripped the string carefully, wrapping them around his hands twice for a proper grip. He waited until Arthur gave him a nod of approval in the mirror and then yanked his hands back, tightening the bottom layer of string. Eames allowed his eyes to close for just a moment as he listened to Arthur’s breath leave him in a rush, causing his companion to gasp quietly. Eames held the new length of string in his hands before leaning forward to kiss the back of Arthur’s neck. “We might as well cancel. At this rate we’ll never be ready to leave,” Arthur grumbled, voice a little weak as he slowly regained his breath.

 

“Fear not, sweetheart,” Eames cooed as he pulled his lips away and pulled another row of string tight for another beautiful, delectable gasp for air.

 

They both fell silent as Eames focused his attention on doing up the corset as tightly as he could manage, uncaring of the stinging pain of the creases on his fingers when he pulled the string taut. He was quiet as he listened for Arthur’s unwilling sounds, and Arthur was near-silent in his failing attempt to keep his small noises unvoiced. Once the last section was tightened, he knotted the string carefully and surveyed the crisscrossing across Arthur’s back. When he was finished, Eames took the liberty of resting his hands on Arthur’s now-pronounced hips and dragging his hands up the other man’s sides. He could feel the boning shaping his lover’s body and the constricted rise and fall of Arthur’s breathing.

 

Eames moulded himself to Arthur’s back, hands returning to those narrow hips to pull him backwards. He rested his chin on Arthur’s shoulder now, the man’s skin burning against him. “You are absolutely stunning, Arthur,” he whispered to the mirror, tilting his head upward to drop a kiss underneath the man’s ear when he saw Arthur blush slightly.

 

“You don’t look terrible yourself,” Arthur gave him a small smile – playful, but also heart-warmingly genuine.

 

“Yeah, well I have you to thank for that, pet,” Eames chuckled. “Now up with you. We need to finish getting you ready.”

 

“I can do my own makeup,” Arthur insisted, turning to face Eames but not sitting on the vanity’s edge like he had been instructed.

 

“Bullshit, love. You’re bollocks at putting on makeup,” he laughed again, stepping forward and scooping Arthur up in his arms to settle the man back on the polished wood of the vanity. He knew the furniture could hold the weight – they had tested it many times for much more enjoyable activities than makeup application – and stepped between Arthur’s legs when the man spread them in invitation.

 

“You say that like it’s something to be proud of to be good at makeup as a man,” his partner chided him, only teasing.

 

“You just hate to admit you’re bad at something,” Eames retaliated as he dug a makeup kit from a bottom drawer and allowed the contents to spill across the shiny vanity surface. “Now look up at the ceiling for me like you do when you cry my name so beautifully.” Arthur sent him a glare at that, so Eames gently gripped the man’s chin and tilted his head back. He applied a small streak of eye liner, quietly growling at Arthur to _stop blinking, darling. Seriously_. Next came some eye shadow – a light dusting of a brownish red to draw out both the corset and Arthur’s capturing eyes. He touched it off with some mascara and brushed blush over Arthur’s cheeks almost as an afterthought, not wanting to overdo it.

 

It was while he was tracing Arthur’s lips before applying the reddish lip gloss that Eames felt nerves begin to stir in the pit of his stomach. “Are you sure we shouldn’t just skip this job, pet? I’ll make it up to you.”

 

He handed Arthur the lip gloss to apply on his own, and Eames dutifully tracked those lips moving as they smeared the gloss perfectly. “Are you worried, Eames?” Arthur questioned softly, wrapping an arm around Eames’s shoulders to draw him closer. “Or are you just jealous?”

 

“Can’t I be both?” Eames mumbled, so close to those gorgeous lips but unwilling to ruin his work.

 

One of his hands was resting on Arthur’s hip again, his hands drawn there like a magnetic attraction. But Arthur grasped their free hands together and led them down, leading Eames’s hand beneath that silky skirt to cup Arthur. His companion was already half hard - from the outfit and Eames’s manhandling - and barely contained by a pair of silk, lacy panties. Eames managed a groan before cupping Arthur more firmly through the fabric and lurching forward to share a sloppy kiss with his husband.

 

They pulled away a short time after that, Arthur whimpering against Eames’s lip gloss-smeared lips when Eames gave one last, promising squeeze before pulling his hand away. “No reason to feel jealous, Eames,” Arthur murmured soothingly. “That’s all for you when we finish this job.”

 

“I expect you to uphold that promise, love,” Eames warned, voice rough.

 

“Just watch my back tonight,” Arthur reminded him after pausing to allow Eames to touch up his lips. “I can’t hide a gun in this stupid outfit.”

 

He watched as Arthur slid off the vanity before stepping forward and running his hands down Arthur’s back and over the swell of his ass. “Can do.”

 

“I mean _all_ of my back,” Arthur sighed. The other man stayed in front of the mirror for a moment to pull a wig of wavy black hair onto his hair precisely.

 

“You know I will,” Eames reminded Arthur seriously, feeling the necessary shift from husband and husband to Point Man and Forger. “Forever.”

 

“I know,” Arthur smiled then, raising a hand to cup Eames’s cheek tenderly and give him a chaste kiss, “That’s why I love you. Now hurry up and get your guns and the car keys. I refuse to be late.”

 

“Yes, dear,” Eames smirked to himself, watching Arthur cross the bedroom floor as though he had been born in heels. The man had perfected the swagger beyond many women Eames had met or studied. He was pretty sure he could still forge a woman with more skill than Arthur, but considering the fact that this was reality, he thought his lover was doing quite well. Eames was frozen in place as Arthur paused in the doorframe, wrapped around the finished wood trim, and gave him a _come hither_ curl of his finger before disappearing down the hallway. That was when Eames jolted into action, grabbing his guns and hiding them away beneath fabric before collecting his car keys and following Arthur out of the house.

 

#

 

Eames hated working jobs in reality. In a way it was more exciting, but now he had something as valuable as Arthur’s life to lose if anything went wrong, the risks were simply not worth that extra rush of adrenaline. This was a favour to Ariadne though – not even an official job beyond the fact that they were getting paid – so the two dream workers had agreed. Cobb was out of the business for good, though the rest of the team had remained dream working. He and Arthur would occasionally take jobs alone, but it was a rare occurrence for them to not work as a cohesive pair these days.

 

They had worked with Ariadne frequently since Inception, after she had finished her schooling. But she had branched out and taken on some other jobs without them – after Arthur had cross-checked the new team members, of course. Eames and Arthur had been taking a bit of a break, both of them just finishing a rather finicky job in Finland, while keeping loose tabs on their young Architect. She had called up one evening, barely coherent through her tears as she explained the dilemma.

 

Ariadne had been working a side job for someone she met at university. She hadn’t told them because she had wanted to prove that she could work independently now. But unfortunately after the job, her employer had disappeared with a data stick with a load of information on her, and the financial information he had refused to pass along to pay her.

 

Needless to say, Arthur and Eames had been furious. They both saw Ariadne as a little sister they never had, and when they were driving _each other_ crazy with their over-protective natures, they’d turn it onto poor, unsuspecting Ariadne. It had only been a bonus that the man had chosen Los Angeles as the location to settle down and relax for a while, staying just a twenty minute drive from the dream workers’ house.

 

There had been no reason to draw this into a dream since Arthur’s preliminary surveillance confirmed the fact that the mark never took the data stick from around his neck. Eames might have chosen to wear two guns out this night, one hidden on each hip, but he wasn’t any more worried about Arthur’s safety than he would be on a general afternoon. The mark had a thing for cross-dressed, lithe men, Arthur had had no issue with playing the role, and Eames just had to sit back and try not to grind his teeth too hard as he watched the mark lead Arthur away from him to another section of the club.

 

All things considered, it was one of their easiest jobs. But that didn’t help time slide by any quicker as Eames settled back in his black leather armchair and watched some disgusting, sweaty, overweight man put his hands all over Eames’s husband. He’d never suspect Arthur of cheating, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed Arthur working a job like this – however breathtaking the Point Man could be in his focus to achieve a goal.

 

He watched dully as Arthur followed the man’s lead, ending up in his mark’s lap and smiling as though he didn’t want to be anywhere else. Eames had one sip of his scotch but found it did nothing to calm him. He set it aside and spent his time reminding himself again and again why he shouldn’t cross the club and break the mark’s jaw. It helped when Arthur glanced across the room over the man’s head, seeking out Eames’s gaze until their eyes met. Eames lost his breath – he always did when looking at Arthur – and then his lover was the Point Man again, back to work.

 

It happened in a flash a short time later when Arthur was pulling himself off the chair and sauntered across the club towards Eames. The mark’s drink had been drugged with a pill that would cause him to sleep and forget the last 24 hours, slipped into his drink by Arthur’s deft hands. There was a data stick clutched in Arthur’s hand, rustling the edge of that short skirt as the other man walked towards him. Eames knew Arthur was putting on the show for him, so he indulged fully, watching those strappy heels, powerful legs, and accentuated hips.

 

Arthur stopped to stand in front of him, smiling down at him and looking expectant. Eames grinned back up at his partner and stood, winding an arm around that narrow waist to lead his lover towards the door. “I love you,” he whispered in the ear that was slightly higher than his own with the aid of heels. Arthur didn’t respond verbally as they walked out of the club and crossed the parking lot towards their car, but Eames could make out a distinct smile on those shimmering lips.

 

#

 

They entered the house in a rush; as quickly as they could manage without Arthur tripping and breaking an ankle in those ridiculous heels. Eames led Arthur up the stairs towards their bedroom, the journey taking a while as they took turns pressing one another against the nearest wall for a kiss. He flicked the overhead light on when they eventually stumbled into the bedroom, Arthur nearly tripping on the carpeting but Eames fast enough to catch him. “I want you to fuck me like this,” Arthur breathed against his lips when they pulled apart for air, staring down at him slightly with the heels.

 

“One request,” Eames proposed as he returned his hands to their rightful place on Arthur’s hips and backed the man towards the vanity.

 

“What might that be?” his lover was trying to hide a smirk. Eames could tell. He could also see the rising flush of heat overtaking those pale cheeks.

 

“Can we ditch the wig?” Eames lifted one hand into the wig’s hair demonstratively. It didn’t feel as soft as he knew Arthur’s hair was, nor did it smell the same. And even though he certainly wasn’t against the view of Arthur cross-dressed as a rather dazzling woman, he wanted to see _Arthur_.

 

Arthur shoved the wig off as his back came into contact with the vanity, causing a few items to rattle warningly. With no patience remaining, Eames swept his arm across the vanity’s surface to clear it before kicking the wig away. He spun Arthur until the man was facing the mirror and then began to bend his partner over the wood surface, watching Arthur’s beautiful brown eyes watch him. Eames licked his lips in eager anticipation. He stepped up behind Arthur and ground his swelling erection against that sweet ass, loving the way Arthur’s back arched at the contact.

 

“Spread for me, darling,” Eames requested as he nudged Arthur’s legs apart. His companion was watching him in the mirror, eyes dark as they tracked Eames’s leer. He placed one hand on that arching back, feeling the smooth fabric under his palm while his other hand hooked on one of Arthur’s thighs to lead them further apart. “Just like that. Perfect,” he practically purred, pressing his covered cock against Arthur more insistently as he leaned forward to drop a kiss to each tense shoulder blade. Then Eames removed himself and dropped to his knees.

 

“ _Eames_!” Arthur yelped in surprise, arching back against Eames’s mouth as he ran a tongue over the wet fabric of those lacy panties. He lapped at Arthur’s balls for a moment before trailing his tongue upward and sucking the side of that swollen cock through the fabric. Arthur was offering tiny little groans as Eames continued to suck and lick until the panties were sopping and definitely ruined forever. “Eames, I— _please_.”

 

The sound of Arthur begging was a rare pleasure, at least this early on in the encounter. He assumed the other man was acting a little more promiscuous with the clothing but wasn’t about to let it go to waste. “So needy,” he chided against one of those trembling thighs, not blocked from his view now that he was underneath the folds of the skirt. “Please _what_?” he pressed a line of kisses up each inner thigh, making sure Arthur could feel the smile on his lips.

 

“ _Please_...” Arthur whimpered, and Eames felt himself begin to leak into his briefs at the mental image of his lover right now. “I need it— _you_. I need you...”

 

“Were you thinking about me while grinding yourself down on that man’s lap?” he nipped smooth skin warningly, more than willing to play along. “Were you acting all loose and wanton just to make me jealous so I’d bring you home and fuck you until it hurts to sit for a week?” he continued as he hooked his thumbs beneath the elastic of the panties and dragged them down Arthur’s legs beneath the skirt.

 

“Yes,” Arthur confessed, voice wavering as he continued his role even while Eames carefully touched one ankle at a time, helping Arthur step out of the panties so he wouldn’t trip and hurt himself later. “You were all I thought about. All I wanted.”

 

“Tell me exactly what you were thinking about,” he demanded as he positioned himself strategically.

 

“I thought about y-your _mouth_ ,” Arthur stuttered when Eames took that cock to the back of his mouth the first time. “Oh _fuck_...” his lover breathed above him, knees nearly buckling as Eames swallowed and sucked before pulling away for air. “Thought about your hot, _wet_ mouth,” Arthur tried again, and Eames felt two dull thuds as the other dream worker no doubt rested his elbows on the vanity surface for support.

 

Eames wrapped one hand around the base of Arthur’s cock, which had leaked a few droplets of precome onto his tongue. He angled it backwards slightly before taking Arthur into his mouth again, swirling his tongue around expertly. He had already memorized all of the little movements that had his partner babbling, forgetting what he had been saying a moment ago as he moaned and begged for more. With his other hand, Eames pet the pale skin of Arthur’s thigh soothingly.

 

He could feel Arthur approaching orgasm quickly, cock pulsing as he thrust down into Eames’s mouth as best he could. He did his best to continue working Arthur’s length for another few minutes before pulling away, not wanting this to end quite yet. There was a quiet, muffled keening sound that escaped Arthur’s lips at the loss – a sound that immediately spread through Eames’s body like wildfire. “Tell me what else you thought about,” he prompted in a hushed tone as he pulled himself back into a standing position, working out the cramps in his legs while he leaned over to grab lube from one of the drawers.

 

“Thought about your cock,” Arthur whispered, resting on his forearms while he watched Eames begin to strip quickly.

 

“What about my cock?” Eames winked at Arthur’s reflection as he threw his clothes to the floor. In a way it felt odd to be completely naked while Arthur was entirely dressed beyond the removed panties. But the view of the other man leaning over the vanity and presenting himself in that gorgeous corset, that teasing skirt and heels, had Eames’s mouth going dry.

 

“In me,” the other man clarified, shifting his legs apart another half inch. The skirt was riding up so far that Eames could see the beginning curve of Arthur’s ass, as well as the man’s waiting erection hanging between his legs. “ _Claiming_ me. Making me call out your name until I’m sobbing, until my legs give out and you have to take me to bed, only to fuck your come back into me again.”

 

“ _Fuck_ , Arthur,” Eames groaned, momentarily breaking character to grip Arthur’s chin and turn his face enough to capture his lips. Arthur straightened and turned slightly to wrap an arm around Eames’s neck, pulling him closer as they kissed passionately, tongues and lips flying. They had certainly experimented before, but they had never brought speaking like this into the bedroom. For some reason he had always thought Arthur would react negatively to it, or be uncomfortable. But what was coming out of that sharp, witty mouth – the lips currently stealing his breath and soul away – had Eames about ready to fall over the edge without being touched. “How was I ever lucky enough to get you, love?” he panted against Arthur’s skin when they pulled away, in disbelief of his luck and the overwhelming love he felt for the man against him.

 

Arthur kissed him again, softer this time as he also broke character. The way their lips slid together said it all, everything they already knew and yet never grew tired of declaring. But then a moment later the dynamic shifted, and Arthur nipped his bottom lip in warning. His lover pulled away and returned to leaning over the vanity on his forearms, watching Eames with dark eyes. “I know I need to be punished for making you jealous, but I _need_ you, Eames.”

 

Eames nearly choked and didn’t stop himself from automatically reaching down to stroke himself a few times at that perfect mental image he would never forget now. Arthur watched the movement hungrily, practically vibrating with lust, and then turned back to the mirror. “Maybe I shouldn’t fuck you,” he murmured thoughtfully, even though there was no way that wasn’t happening tonight. “That would be a suitable punishment.”

 

He watched greedily as Arthur arched his back further, shoving his ass into the air. “Any punishment but that...” The other dream worker had rested his cheek on his forearm, resting his neck while staring up at Eames pleadingly. “ _Please_...”

 

His eyes roamed over that image lazily. And then his eyes came to rest on the laced-up back of Arthur’s corset and he knew what to do. Eames reached forward and dipped two fingers into the lube before pressing them both into Arthur without warning. Arthur gave a whine and clenched around his two fingers for a moment, breathing hard, and then relaxed, hissing for more. Eames took a moment to hike the fabric of the black skirt up around Arthur’s hips so that it wouldn’t get ruined, and then began thrusting his fingers in and out quickly.

 

Eames had wanted to find some balance between being careful and following his role, and decided on two fingers. Arthur, as he had suspected, needed more lubrication, but was still slightly stretched from when he had fucked the man against the shower tiling that morning. He was still careful to make sure the man was coated though, wanting this to be pleasurable for both of them. Once he was sure Arthur was ready, he removed his fingers quickly and coated himself.

 

He lined himself up with one hand while gripping the trail of black string from Arthur’s corset with his other hand. “Time for your punishment, darling,” he proclaimed suggestively.

 

“Y- _yes_...” the word broke in the back of Arthur’s throat before falling from those lips on the man’s dying breath as Eames simultaneously sunk himself into Arthur to the hilt and pulled back on the corset string, tightening the boning to hug Arthur’s sides the way he never could. Arthur gave a hiccupped-moan and then there was a thud as his companion’s forehead came to rest against the vanity surface, eyes clenched closed and mouth hanging open in a silent yell. “G-god, yes, _Eames_...” Arthur was dragging in breath like a man dying, and Eames felt the man clench around his cock, hugging Eames as tightly as the corset was hugging Arthur.

 

“Do you like that, sweetheart?” he questioned, voice low and lewd, but laced with concern.

 

Both of Arthur’s hands had been clenched tightly, nails occasionally scraping across polished wood, but one hand shot back to grip Eames’s leg at the question to pull him even deeper into Arthur’s scorching ass. “Love it, love it,” Arthur’s breath hitched without Eames moving an inch. “Makes me squeeze you, drag you in. Feels like you’re filling me even more. Love the feel of you in me...”

 

Arthur was babbling again, and Eames could feel his cock twitch in warning with the dangerous combination of those words and Arthur’s tight heat. So, without further preamble now that he knew he wasn’t hurting his lover, Eames began thrusting into Arthur frantically. He never jerked the corset tighter, worried he might do too much at once. Instead, he kept a steady pressure and slowly pulled the strings tighter and tighter as his pace quickened and Arthur’s vocalizations grew louder and less coherent.

 

Normally Arthur would probably buck back into his thrusts, but between the dangerously narrow heel of his shoes and the ever-constricting corset, Arthur remained sprawled across the vanity and just took everything Eames had to give. The thought of Arthur absolutely loose, clenching around him and taking him deeper with each thrust, had Eames babbling his own string of nonsense. Even though he adored Arthur as an active participant in their lovemaking, there was something that had his blood burning with passion at the thought that Arthur would take everything he gave and trust him to do anything he wanted.

 

He wanted to lean forward in order to kiss and nip that bare, sweaty skin that was presented to him over the top of the corset. But between supporting Arthur’s spread legs with a hand on his hip and tightening the corset at a controlled pace with the other, Eames was unwilling to compromise the position. He focused on pushing himself deeper each time, bucking against Arthur hard enough to cause the obscene sound of flesh slapping together.

 

Arthur had been right, despite his babbling. Tightening the corset really did seem to lead the other man to clench his body tighter, hugging Eames in a way he had never felt before. The dream worker below him was also incredibly hot, practically burning up as his body was taken to the limit. And just has he had promised, Arthur had begun to call out his name again and again with abandon, with all of the oxygen left in his lungs. “Just what you asked for, love,” he reminded with a smirk.

 

Those brown eyes flashed open, focusing after a moment to stare at Eames in the mirror. Arthur gave a wobbly sort of smile, too distracted to hold it as his lips parted again. “ _Eames_...” that precise voice called his name, eyes fluttering closed again. Arthur licked his lips as he panted, body trembling under Eames’s touch. Suddenly Arthur bucked back to meet Eames’s next thrust, just as Eames pulled the corset a little tighter. “E- _Eames_!”

 

And then it was all over in a rush.

 

Arthur came over the front varnish of the vanity without further warning, legs shaking and giving out below him as Eames, being milked by his lover’s own orgasm, promptly buried himself deep and filled Arthur with his essence. “Bloody hell, _Arthur_ ,” was all he managed to whisper as he felt himself fill up that tight ass, panting with his own exertion. Arthur was sobbing, just like he had promised, but Eames knew it was a good sort of pleasurable, saturated sob when Arthur grappled for one of Eames’s hands to begin trailing wet kisses over every inch of skin he could reach.

 

Eames stayed fully seated within Arthur for a few moments, both of them still breathing hard but otherwise falling silent. Then he pulled out and dropped to his knees again. “Dress me down, Eames?” Arthur requested hazily, sounding sated and exhausted. Eames spent a few minutes licking Arthur clean before turning his attention downward to unwind the satin ribbon around his companion’s feet. Arthur stepped out of them with a grateful sigh, still on his forearms as Eames pulled the skirt away next, helping Arthur hold up his balance.

 

He paused for a moment to trail kisses along every bare inch of skin he could find when he stood again, resting his own forearms on the vanity to hold up his weight and frame Arthur. After that he untied the string’s knots and unlaced the corset slowly, allowing the blood to flow back through Arthur’s body in a rush that had his partner sighing in bliss again. The fabric fell away sweaty – they would need to get it cleaned but he wasn’t going to inform Arthur of that right now – and he set it aside. He soothed the red lines in Arthur’s skin from where the boning and fabric had hugged his sides, and then scooped the other man into his arms before he could protest.

 

Arthur was a boneless heap in his arms as Eames settled him down on the mattress. There was still a flush over that pale skin, even though Arthur already appeared to be half asleep. Eames excused himself from the bedside for a moment to grab a wet towel from the adjoined washroom to clean off the vanity, knowing Arthur would have a fit in the morning if it wasn’t taken care of. He ran a washcloth under warm water next, returning to the bedside to wipe smeared makeup away gently. “What about fucking your come back into me?” Arthur asked him with a smirk, not even opening his eyes with his sated exhaustion.

 

Eames chuckled and leaned down to drop an undemanding kiss to those lips. “Let’s save that for another night, shall we?” he suggested softly, hoping to lull the other man to sleep.

 

“Wait!” Arthur’s eyes flew open, looking a little panicked. Eames watched as Arthur’s right hand reached for his left one, touching his bare ring finger. “Our rings.”

 

“We’re going to sleep, love,” he reminded his husband affectionately. “You can put it on in the morning.” It had surprised him with how attached Arthur was to their wedding bands – or more specifically, the meaning connected to them – since he had assumed the man would be more symbolic about their union. Arthur had explained once, when he had asked, that he liked the weight on his finger. _It’s a comforting reminder of your love, even though I already know and feel it in my heart_ , Arthur had explained with a smile and a long, languid kiss.

 

They still had to take them off when they were on a job – worried about it giving their relationship away to people who hadn’t earned their trust, and also concerned about losing them – but it had always become a bit of a moment they would share when the job was done and they could don the gold bands again. It felt like a _job well done_ , and an _I love you_ each time, and it always had Eames’s heart fluttering like it had the first time he had laid eyes on Arthur, the impossibly complex Point Man. “I’m awake,” Arthur promised, forcing his eyes open as he watched Eames from his nest of pillows and blankets.

 

Eames sighed in defeat before nodding. He left the bed to flip all but the bedside lamp off and grabbed their small ring box from the bottom drawer of the vanity, which had a false bottom. He crawled into bed and pulled the box open, presenting the rings to Arthur again. Eames knew it was silly to have his heart racing and swelling the same way as their wedding day, but he didn’t particularly mind as Arthur plucked a ring from the velvet interior of the box. “I love you, Eames,” Arthur whispered against his lips, dropping a quick kiss there before sliding Eames’s ring back onto his finger.

 

Eames took the remaining ring in one hand and held Arthur’s left hand with his other one. “I love you, Arthur,” he promised, sliding his husband’s ring back on. They slid together in the middle of the bed, kissing tiredly for a few moments before Arthur finally wished him a good night and rolled over onto his other side. Eames plucked up the ring box and set it on the night stand before turning off the lamp light and sliding back under the covers. When he scooted back up to slot his body against Arthur’s back, he could tell his partner was already asleep. “Goodnight, my love,” he murmured before snaking an arm around that narrow waist and allowing his own eyes to drift shut.

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out[here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**


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